Road Rage
by desperate housewife
Summary: Jeff Tracy is a man who needs rescuing.


Initially, I wrote this story about a single mother going on a long car journey with young children. However, I think it is funnier if you substitute a single father. My previous story featured characters of my own creation, and someday I may use the story in some form or another in a novel.

I have noticed several stories on the 'Thunderbirds' fan fiction net featuring the Tracy brothers when they were children/teenagers. I have been trying to write a story where Jeff gets rescued by his sons, but I couldn't think of anything. So here I have turned the tables and Jeff needs rescuing _from_ his sons. I decided to re-wind the family some nineteen years, and re-write my story making Jeff a thirty seven year old single father to Alan (two), Gordon (three), Virgil (almost five) and John (five years and ten months) and Scott (seven).

Gerry Anderson is the creator of Thunderbirds and Carlton is to blame for giving the Tracy boys impossibly close birth dates. If ever a man needed rescuing it is Jeff Tracy on this car journey from hell!

Rated PG for language.

**Road Rage**

Driving was not one of Jeff Tracy's favourite pastimes, unless you count cruising down the Pacific highway in an open top vintage T 'bird sports car. Nowadays Jeff preferred to take to the skies. Driving had become a necessity rather than a pleasure. His car, no longer a stylish status symbol, was a battered old seven-seater work-horse with temperamental air conditioning. But at least it was reliable and could get him and his family from A to B.

Today did not start well. The Mexican nanny, employed to look after Jeff's five children, had to fly home to be with her family. She had received bad news. Her mother was seriously ill, and her close- knit family gathered round to nurse her in her own home. They were expecting the worst. Jeff, a considerate employer, was sympathetic and told her she could take off as much time as she needed

The school summer holidays had crept up on Jeff un-noticed, and to top it all they clashed with a busy work schedule. Jeff could not afford to take any leave for at least three weeks. He realised it would take precious time to trawl the agencies to find another temporary nanny, and it would also be unsettling for his children. As a workaholic trying to establish his own engineering business, Jeff did what any other harassed single parent would do; he made a desperate phone call to his mother. Help was at hand, but unfortunately his parents had a farm to run and summer was their busiest time too. It was agreed that Jeff would pack the children off to stay with them for the next three weeks. The trouble was, their home was a good four hundred and fifty kilometres away from where Jeff lived, and the journey involved hours of travelling on a boring, monotonous stretch of motorway.

"Stop the car Dad!" the small voice sounded strangely muffled. Without hesitation, Jeff aimed the car towards the grass verge and stood on the brakes. He knew that when five year old John asked him to stop, he had better do it pretty quickly. John tumbled from the back seat with his hand clasped over his mouth – he made it just in time. This was not entirely unexpected; John had always been a poor traveller. Jeff had hoped the travel- sickness pills would work this time, but John complained of feeling sick before they had even left the driveway, and they had only been on the road for twenty five minutes.

"Feeling okay now John?" Jeff patted his son on the back. John coughed and spat up again. Jeff handed him a bottle of water and sat him down in the fresh air until his colour returned. "Can you get back in to the car now?"

John wiped his mouth on his sleeve and nodded. He started to climb back in to his seat.

"Ew, he smells all sicky I don't want him next to me."

"That's not very nice Virgil."

"If he sits next to me smelling of sick I'll be sick too."

Jeff sighed. "Okay, John can sit in the front with me."

"Oh, but I was in the front. I'm navigating," voiced eldest son Scott.

"Well you can navigate in the back next to Virgil."

Seven year old Scott was a little disappointed. Sitting up front with his father and having a job to do made him feel important. He didn't really want to sit in the back with his bickering younger brothers, but he was a compliant child who usually did as he was told. Obediently, he climbed out of the front seat clutching his road map.

"Dad, Dad, Gordon's drinking my lemonade, he drank all of his and now he's drinking mine," complained Virgil, who was just ten days short of his fifth birthday.

"It's not yours it's mine," protested three year old Gordon.

"No it's not, you had all yours. Give me it." Virgil snatched the bottle away from Gordon who thumped him on the arm.

"Ow, he thumped me!"

"Now don't you two start or I will have to separate you. One of you will have to sit next to Alan."

Youngest son Alan was two years old; he sat in his child safety seat at the back of the car looking as if he was about to nod off. On the vacant seat beside Alan, there was a bag containing several pairs of Huggies training pants, a pack of wet wipes and spare clothes.

"Don't want to sit next to Alan," Gordon said sulkily.

"Then you had better behave. Now are we all ready to continue the journey? We want to get to Grandma's before night-time. How about you John? Feeling okay to continue?"

"I think so."

"Keep this plastic bag with you just in case."

Another forty- five minutes in to their journey, Jeff took a sidelong glance at John who looked as if he was falling asleep. Jeff checked the rear view mirror and noticed that Alan was still dozing, albeit in a rather uncomfortable position with his head lolled to one side. Scott was reading a comic, but Gordon and Virgil were jostling each other.

"Settle down you two."

"Are we there yet?" asked Virgil

"We will be soon." Jeff lied; there was another four hundred kilometres to go yet.

With his children seemingly settled Jeff felt confident enough to join the busy, four lane motor way. He hoped he would be able to make up for lost time. Usually he hated the motorway, and in particular, the maniacal truck drivers who tailed him at break neck speed. But he hoped to be able to get his family to their destination by early afternoon and then return home during the evening. He was due to attend an important meeting the next day and did not want to have to take more leave than he had to. Jeff pulled over to the outside lane hoping to get through this hellish stretch of road as soon as possible. He put the car in to fifth gear and cruised at just around the speed limit.

"Daddy stop the car." it was Gordon this time. "Daddy I need to go!"

Distracted by Gordon's urgent sounding voice Jeff slowed down, "I told you all to go before you left home."

"I did, but I want to go again."

"Can you wait until we get to a rest room?"

Gordon started to fidget, "Nooo, I gotta go now."

"I told you not to drink so much lemonade. We'll never get there if we have to keep stopping every few minutes."

"I was thirsty."

"It's not going to be that easy to stop Gordon; I'm stuck in the outside lane of the motorway. I've got to cut across three lanes and these idiots are travelling nose to tail. I'll just have to hope someone lets me pull over."

Jeff indicated his intention to pull over to the middle lane, but found his way blocked by trucks overtaking him on the inside. No-one was prepared to let him pull over.

Jeff gave them a blast on his horn; another driver cut him up and raised a middle finger.

"Yeah, and you buster!" Jeff muttered under his breath.

"Daddy, pleeeease."

"Gordon you'll just have to wait. There's nowhere I can stop safely."

Unfortunately Gordon's bladder wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Gordon's had an accident," announced Virgil.

"Oh Gordon!" Jeff's exasperation made his voice sound harsher than he intended too. Gordon burst in to tears. "It's your fault Daddy, you didn't stop."

"Smelly pants, smelly pants," taunted Virgil

Gordon lashed out, hitting Virgil on his nose.

"Dad, Gordon thumped me!"

For a split second Jeff considered bringing the car to a halt right there in the middle of the motorway and just walking away. But of course he didn't, he put his foot down to the floor, and sped away, determined to get past all those infuriating trucks. Only now he noticed they were not going quite as fast. Instead of trying to race each other, they were now travelling in a sedate line with no tail- gating.

"Daddy there's a police car with its lights on," announced Scott eagerly.

Jeff glanced in his rear view mirror and swore. "Shit!" he hoped his children hadn't heard.

"Shit!" repeated Virgil and started to giggle.

Gordon forgot his predicament and chuckled. "Shit," he imitated.

"Is he chasing you Daddy?" asked Scott

"I don't know." But Jeff had the ominous feeling that he was.

The police car drew level with Jeff and the patrolman gestured to him to pull over.

"John, put your head in the plastic bag," ordered Jeff. "I'll tell him you were going to be sick. He might let me off with a caution.

"But I don't think I'm going to be sick again."

"Just pretend," said Jeff.

The officer was now walking towards him with a book of tickets and a pen at the ready.

Jeff wound down his window, he decided to come clean. "I'm sorry officer I didn't realise I was going quite so fast. My son was feeling car sick and I was trying to find somewhere safe to stop."

The officer eyed John who put his head in the plastic bag and started to make theatrical retching noises.

"Will you get out of the car please sir?"

"Yes officer," replied Jeff.

"Is this your car?" the officer sniffed.

"Yes – such as it is," joked Jeff. Then he realised that the officer was sniffing to see if he could detect any traces of alcohol.

"So where are you heading?"

"Kansas, my parents live there."

The officer walked around the car; narrowing his eyes he scrutinized it closely. He aimed a kick at one of the tyres. "You could use some more air in this one."

"Yes I'll see to it as soon as I get to the next gas station."

"Is Daddy going to go to jail?" Jeff heard Virgil ask loudly.

"No, of course not," hissed Scott.

"May I see your license please?" the officer requested.

Jeff already had it in his hand.

"Mr Jefferson Tracy, Gee are you the Jefferson Tracy who went to the moon?"

"Kinda wish I was still there sometimes," replied Jeff dryly.

"Gee how about that? I suppose you get accustomed to speed when you're flying those rocket ships around."

"It's been almost three years since I've flown a rocket." admitted Jeff, "But I sure wish I had one right now. It's been a fraught journey so far."

Young Alan stirred. The soothing hum of the engine and comforting rocking motion had suddenly stopped. Alan was now awake, and his neck was hurting him after sleeping with his head on one side. He opened his mouth and emitted an ear-splitting shriek.

"Are they all yours?" the officer indicated the children in the back.

"Yep, all five of them."

"Five? Whew! I can see you've got your hands full."

Jeff forced a grin, but inside he was silently pleading 'You'll feel sorry for me won't you? You won't give me a ticket this time; you'll let me off with a caution, please?'

The officer was reading out Jeff's car number and writing in his ticket book. "It's a fixed penalty sir; payable on the spot I'm afraid."

"Okay officer."

"Cash if you can please." The officer handed Jeff a ticket and Jeff parted with a handful of notes.

The officer pocketed the cash, "Thank you sir, and be more mindful of your speed in future."

"Thank you officer, I will"

"Have a nice day now," called the officer as he retuned to his patrol car.

Jeff climbed back in to the driver's seat and put his head in his hands.

"Can I take my head out of this plastic bag now Dad? I can't breathe."

"Yes John…. god yes!" he snatched the plastic bag from John and held it up to the light. "Are there any air holes in this?"

"No, you can't use a bag with holes in for a sick bag. All the sick would run out."

"Of course it would John."

Jeff took a minute to compose his thoughts. He wondered what else could possibly go wrong.

"Okay Gordon, let's get you sorted out." Jeff walked to the rear of the car and opened the back. Now where had he put the case containing the children's clothes? Of course it was right at the bottom, underneath the double buggy, the bikes and all the other paraphernalia heaped on top of it. Jeff began to unpack the car. At last he came to the suitcase; he unzipped it and rummaged around selecting a small pair of pants and shorts that looked to fit a three year old. He also took out a couple of multi-coloured towels. Now he had the unenviable task of shoe-horning everything back in. Inevitably, there was one item which Jeff could not manage to fit back in; this was the cumbersome double buggy. He scratched his head wondering how on earth he had managed to fit it all in before.

Gordon was feeling uncomfortable and becoming impatient. Jeff couldn't be bothered to unpack and re-pack everything again so he tried to use brute force. He put the buggy inside and slammed the door. He felt the door catch on a wheel. He wasn't too worried about scratching the buggy as it was old, having been handed down from Scott to Alan, but he was worried about his car door. Jeff took the buggy out and threw it down on the grass by the side of his car. He would see to Gordon's needs first and re-pack the car later.

Jeff gingerly lifted Gordon out of his car seat and sat him on one of the towels. Then Jeff removed the sodden seat cover, folded the other towel in two and placed it over the hard plastic seat.

"I'm sorry Daddy," whispered Gordon.

"Don't worry; I'm not angry with you. You couldn't help it. It's happened to all of us at some point."

"Did it happen to Virgil?"

"Yes."

"Even Scott?"

"Yes even Scott, he was once a three year old - just like you. Now do you want to wear one of Alan's Huggies just in case?"

Gordon looked affronted. "I'm not a baby!"

"No, of course you're not. I'm sorry." Jeff gritted his teeth and got on with the job in hand, he would have happily diapered all five of his children plus himself, if it meant he could continue the rest of his journey without having to stop anymore.

When Jeff returned to the driver's seat Alan was still screaming. Now that he was awake he wanted to get out of the car. He pulled angrily at the restraining straps on his car seat

"I want to come out. I want to come out."

"No Alan, you can't come out yet."

Alan had just heard his least favourite word; with his bottom lip thrust forward he opened his mouth and wailed.The noise assaulted Jeff's head like a sledge hammer. There was no way he could resume driving with that racket. Scott climbed over to the back seat; he was trying to plug Alan's mouth with a pacifier. Jeff had once been the kind of father who disapproved of children over twelve months using a pacifier. His older children had theirs confiscated before they reached the age of two. However, Alan was allowed three pacifiers, and Jeff would sooner leave his house without his trousers on than leave without taking at least two of them.

"Come on Al," coaxed Scott.

Alan grizzled and spat the pacifier out.

"I'm sorry Dad; it didn't work. I can't make him shut up."

"Does he need changing?"

"I can't smell anything."

"Is there something he can play with? I suppose he's just fed up with sitting in his seat."

Scott gave Alan the road map to look at. He promptly ripped a page out and began to shred it, but at least he stopped crying.

With Gordon clean and dry and Alan thankfully quiet, Jeff started up the car engine and re-joined the motorway. The next hundred kilometres were uneventful. Alan and John fell asleep, and Gordon managed to nod off too, in spite of Virgil poking him every few minutes to see if he was awake. However Jeff noticed that the indicator on the fuel gauge was hovering on the red, he would have to fill up at the next gas station. He knew that as soon as he stopped the car Alan would wake up again, and when Alan was awake everyone else would be too.

"Why have we stopped Dad?" wondered Scott.

"We need more gas."

"Can I have a chocolate bar?" asked Virgil.

"No, I don't want you to eat chocolate in the car."

"But I'm hungry."

"So am I," said Scott.

"We'll pull over to the diner when I've filled up. You can eat there."

John was awake, "I don't want to eat. I don't want to be sick again."

"You don't have to eat if you don't want too."

"I don't want to go in. I don't like the smell of burgers."

But Jeff didn't hear, he had already got out of the car and was busy unscrewing the petrol cap. Then Alan woke up and started to try to wriggle out of his car seat again. Scott watched with interest as his father filled the tank and inflated the tyres. When Jeff had paid for the gas he drove the short distance to the diner.

"Okay boys we'll stop here for an early lunch."

John reluctantly climbed out of the car. Virgil had run on ahead and now stood eagerly at the door.

"Wait there." called Jeff, "We must all stay together. It's busy here." Jeff walked to the back of the car to get the buggy. Gordon was getting a bit too big for it now, but it was useful to keep Alan in one place. Then Jeff suddenly realised where he had left it. It was lying on a grass verge some hundred kilometres back down the road. He swore again. He was now faced with two choices; either they went all the way back to collect it, assuming it would still be there. Or he could find the nearest baby care store and buy a new one. He chose the latter option. He decided he would buy a cheap lightweight single buggy and Gordon would just have to get used to walking.

Jeff un-strapped Alan from his car seat, and hoisted him on to his hip. He grabbed Alan's kit bag with his other free hand.

"Scott, can you take Gordon for me?"

"Sure Dad."

Gordon wasn't ready to wake up yet. He was grouchy; he aimed a kick at Scott who was trying to unfasten his seat belt. Then he sat down in the car park and refused to walk. "Carry me Daddy."

"I can't, I've got my hands full with Alan and his changing bag."

Gordon began to whine. "I can't walk. I'm too tired."

Scott came to the rescue, "Here, let me give you a piggy back."

They made their way over to the food counter; Jeff put Alan down and picked up a couple of trays. Alan was tempted by a colourful array of pink doughnuts encrusted with jewel-like hundreds and thousands.

"I want one." He pointed, "I want one of those, I want one of those."

"What about you Gordon, do you want one too?"

Gordon could not make his mind up. Virgil was adamant, "I want a chocolate bar."

"Chocolate is not something you eat for lunch," said his father.

"But what if you like chocolate for lunch?" protested Virgil.

"It's not a healthy meal."

"Can I have chips then?"

"I suppose so."

"Then I can have the chocolate bar for dessert."

Jeff knew he wasn't going to win this argument, he turned to Scott, "What would you like?"

"A big hamburger with chips please, and can I have a grown up meal instead of a children's one."

"Only if you're sure you can eat it all."

"Yes I can, I'm hungry."

Gordon piped up, "I want the same as Scott."

Jeff noticed that John was still loitering in the doorway. "Would you like a drink John?"

"Can I wait outside? I can smell onions, I feel sick."

"Don't be silly John, go and sit down and I'll get you a glass of water."

John sat down at a Formica covered table and began to play with a red, squeezy ketchup bottle, moving it through the air and making pretend rocket noises.

"Five... Four… Three… Two... One… Blast off… Vrooooom." He squeezed the bottle a little too hard and shot a slimy trail of red liquid all over the table. He guiltily looked around to see if his father had noticed, and then wiped it up with his sleeve.

Jeff set his tray down, "This is filthy." he muttered, he had just put his hand on a dollop of ketchup. "The standard of hygiene in some of these places leaves a lot to be desired. No-one has bothered to wipe up, and the last customers must have come out of a pig sty." He reached in to Alan's changing bag, pulled out a wet wipe and set about cleaning the table top.

Scott walked slowly to the table, trying not to let anything slide off the tray he was carrying. He handed Virgil his plate of chips and then carefully set his own plate down on the table. John groaned, leaned forward and rested his head on his folded arms; he didn't want to watch Scott eating his super-size burger. Jeff was about to chastise John for lolling all over the table but thought better of it. He didn't want John to be sick again.

Jeff was just tucking in to his own meal when Alan sneezed explosively, spitting a mouthful of partially chewed doughnut all over the table.

The look of sheer amazement on Alan's face at the force of his sneeze, made Scott laugh out loud. Jeff took a paper napkin and wiped sticky pink icing from Alan's face and noticed with distaste, that his nose was running too. Virgil had covered his chips in ketchup which was dribbling down his chin. Gordon was eating with his fingers. Suddenly Jeff did not feel hungry anymore.

"Use a knife and fork," he said tetchily

Gordon grasped the implements in an awkward childish fashion. He sawed at a piece of burger which shot off his plate and landed on the floor. Gordon bent down to pick it up. He raised it to his mouth.

"No Gordon, put it on the side of your plate, it's been on the floor and it's dirty now."

To Jeff's surprise Scott finished his enormous burger and a good sized portion of chips as well. When they all had enough to eat and drink, Jeff ordered everyone to make use of the restroom facilities before getting back in to the car.

"Scott, can you make sure that Virgil and Gordon go?"

"Sure Dad."

"You too John, come on."

Jeff was going to have to deal with Alan himself. Having over-estimated Gordon's bladder control, Jeff hadn't been prepared to take any chances with Alan who was in the process of being trained. Fortunately Alan was quite happy to wear a diaper; it was less trouble. He wouldn't have to sit on a cold hard potty with a draught whipping around his nether regions, he could stay snug and warm while he 'performed' discretely; leaving someone else with all the hard work.

Jeff hoped that the men'srestroom would have a changing facility. He picked Alan up and noticed that his diaper felt a little bulky. A sympathetic person kindly held the swing door open for him. Jeff despaired when he saw there was no-where to change Alan. This was blatantly sexist and he had half a mind to complain. He tried to restrain his struggling son with one hand whilst trying to remove a soiled diaper with the other. A middle aged man in a smart business suit grimaced and gave them a wide berth.

Virgil washed his hands and placed them under the automatic hand dryer. His eyes strayed to a slot machine on the wall.

"Can I have a sweetie?"

"Sorry Virgil, I don't have any sweets."

"There are sweeties in the machine. You have to put money in it. Can I have some money Daddy?"

"This is arestroom; there are no sweets in arestroom."

"There is so. There's a pictureof a banana with a happy face."

"What? …oh … no, that's not a sweet machine Virgil."

Scott chimed in, "Its chewing gum, but we're not allowed chewing gum are we?"

"But I like banana chewing gum."

"Scott's right, you're not allowed chewing gum."

With Jeff momentarily distracted, Alan made a break for freedom. Clad only in his T shirt and socks, he ran to the washbasin and turned the cold tap on full.

"Stop that Alan." Jeff tried to grab him, but Alan had thrust his hands under the gushing tap, soaking his T shirt and Jeff as well. Jeff managed to pin him down and put a fresh pair of training pants on him. He then peeled off Alan's wet shirt and held it under the hand drier.

"Look there's a fountain Daddy," said Gordon chirpily. "When I tread on this button the fountain comes on."

Jeff could see Gordon standing in front of a row of receptacles situated on the wall at approximately adult waist height.

"No Gordon!" He lunged forward and grabbed Gordon by the scruff of his neck. "No, don't do that it's not a drinking fountain."

Jeff's tone was sharp and Gordon's face started to crumple. Fortunately Scott stepped in. "Here's the fountain Gordon."

"But I can't reach that one, it's for grown ups."

"Here, let me lift you up."

"Did you wash your hands after you used the bathroom?" reminded Jeff.

"Yes," answered Gordon, "I washed them I the fountain."

Jeff finished dressing Alan and started to round up his brood. There was one missing.

"Where's John?" Jeff banged on the only cubicle with the door still closed. "Come on you'll have to hurry up. Do you need any help?" He pushed the door; it was firmly locked, "And you know I don't like you locking yourself in."

Presently Jeff heard the sound of flushing. The door opened and an angry, overweight truck driver pushed roughly past him.

"What's your problem?" he snarled.

"Sorry, sorry I thought my son was in there."

"Daddy, that man didn't wash his hands," said Scott.

"Where the hell is John?" thundered Jeff, his blood pressure was rising and as much as he loved his children, he began to wish he had made more use of the 'sweetie' machine.

"He said he would wait outside," answered Scott. Jeff opened the door and peered down the corridor. There was no sign of John.

"Where did he go?"

"Perhaps he's in the shop," suggested Scott.

"I told you boys not to wander off." Jeff strode angrily to the small supermarket area and frantically searched the aisles.

"Johnny, where are you?" called Virgil as if he was playing a game of hide and seek. Scott was getting worried, "John!" he shouted.

Jeff realised he wasn't there. "Perhaps he went back to the dining area."

"No," replied Scott. "He didn't like the smell of the food in there; he said it made him feel sick."

"When he said he was going to wait outside, did he mean outside the diner, in the car park?"

"I don't know he just said 'outside.'"

"But which door did he use?"

Scott shrugged. "I didn't see."

"He might have gone back to the car."

There were two sets of doors leading to different car parks. If John had wandered out of the doors nearest to the diner he would have been able to find the car. But if John had chosen to exit through the doors by the restroom then he would probably be wandering around the trucker's park. Jeff broke out in a cold sweat; the wheels on some of those trucks were taller than John.

Jeff scooped Alan up in one arm and Gordon in the other and ran for the exit. Scott followed dragging a protesting Virgil by the arm. Jeff was beginning to panic; he could feel his heart beating in his ribcage. He was struck by a sudden horrific mental image of his angel-faced, blond –haired son being abducted by some sleazy, fat, hairy trucker. He burst through the automatic doors and bawled at the top of his voice. "JOHN!"

A matronly woman approached him; she was leading an anxious small boy. Jeff almost cried with relief.

"Is this your daddy?" she asked.

John nodded. He looked as if he had been crying.

"John, where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we were?" Jeff hadn't meant to shout at John, it was a culmination of anger and relief.

John sobbed, "I couldn't find the car. I thought you'd left me behind."

"Why did you wander off? I told you to stay with us."

John hiccupped. "The food made me feel sick so I went outside."

The woman put a protective arm around John's shoulders; she regarded Jeff with a look of disdain. "Did you not realise your son was feeling ill? "

Suddenly Jeff felt very inadequate. So far he had managed to lose the buggy, lose John after nearly suffocating him, get a speeding ticket and possibly, if anyone had noticed him fling down a dilapidated buggy and drive away – a fine for fly- tipping too.

"We were in the restroom;" explained Jeff. "I thought he was with us."

"Obviously you were not watching him," she scolded,

"I was changing Alan's diaper. I'm sorry John must have wandered off while my back was turned. Thank you for looking after him."

The woman's face softened, she suddenly felt sorry for this harassed father who seemed to be struggling with his five lively boys. "I can see you have your hands full. I suppose you'll be glad to hand them over to your wife."

Jeff's face clouded. "My wife died two years ago."

Now it was the woman's turn to feel uncomfortable, "Oh, I didn't realise, I'm so sorry."

Jeff had been so busy making sure his children used the restroom that he had forgotten to use it himself. Now he had a pressing need. He decided to make use of an extra pair of hands.

"I wonder if you could do me a favour," he asked. "Could you watch the children for me? I've left my son's changing bag in the restroom."

"Yes of course, my they're a handsome bunch!" she smiled at Alan and patted his curly blond head; he backed away and tried to hide between Scott's legs. "He's a little shy." She turned her attention to Gordon. "How old are you?" Gordon looked apprehensive. "Don't you have lovely red hair? What's your name?"

Gordon scowled and refused to volunteer any information. Virgil on the other hand welcomed attention from anyone, and was keen to tell her more than she wanted to hear. "Gordon wet his self."

"Oh dear."

Gordon, angry that Virgil was out of kicking range set about trying to gouge a lump out of the tarmac with his heel. "Daddy wouldn't let me stop," he mumbled.

"Oh? Wouldn't he?"

"He was going too fast."

Virgil realised that he had to say something interesting to get the attention back again.

"Daddy said 'shit' … to a policeman!" he added as an afterthought.

"You mustn't say that," hissed Scott.

"The policeman was chasing Daddy in his car."

The conversation halted abruptly, and when Jeff came back he was greeted with an icy stare and a stony silence. He was puzzled. "I hope you boys haven't been naughty."

Virgil's brown eyes widened like saucers, butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Oh no, Daddy."

When Jeff had ushered his children safely back to the car he felt mentally drained. He was a man who had organised missions to the Moon but now he couldn't even organise a trip to the next state. He was trying to be mother, father and breadwinner; trying to fill the gaping void left by his wife's death – and failing miserably. How had Lucille been able to cope with all of this? There must be something different about a woman's brain. They were so much better at multi-tasking. Lucie had the ability to remember every little detail. She managed to juggle running the household, with caring for four children under five, and still find time to teach music at Scott's kindergarten. She must be tearing her hair out in heaven to see the hash he was making of things down here.

'I'm sorry Lucie; I'm just not designed for this,' Jeff thought, "I wish you were here."

Jeff had gone through a whole range of emotions since his wife's untimely death. The first was disbelief. Women shouldn't die during childbirth in this day and age. You could be cured of cancer, have your worn- out joints replaced. You could expect to live to ninety five or even a hundred. Lucille had been healthy, and apart from Virgil arriving prematurely, the other pregnancies had all been fine.

After disbelief came anger, directed at the hospital staff for their assumed negligence, at himself for being responsible for her condition, and at Lucille for leaving him just as he was at the peak of his career. Jeff was ashamed to admit that in the dark early days, this anger had even been directed at his baby son Alan for having been born. Anger gave way to self pity, Jeff was the one who had been expected to die first and he wished that he had. His job was a dangerous one, in a hostile environment. Unbeknown to Lucie, when Jeff had accepted the Moon mission, the first thing he was required to do was prepare his will. He also wrote letters to his wife and sons and even arranged his own memorial service. If he had not returned from this mission, his wife and children would have to rely on the widow's pension provided by the Space Agency. He could not get life insurance cover. He would have died a hero, but his family would have found it hard to make ends meet.

The worst emotions were to come; nothing could prepare Jeff for the utter desolation he felt in the first few weeks after Lucie's funeral. Jeff was by nature a high achiever and you couldn't aim much higher than the Moon, but some days he felt as spent as the booster rockets, that fell away to Earth after they had been used to thrust the rocket in to Space. Then came the guilt; Jeff knew that Lucie didn't want him to go to the Moon, but nothing was going to get in the way of his ultimate ambition. Lucie was terrified the first time he went away. He could see the strain etched on her face when they spoke on the video link. It didn't get any easier for her, but she learned how to hide her feelings.

Jeff partly blamed himself for Virgil's premature birth. Lucie's first two pregnancies had been trouble free and Jeff saw no reason to cancel his next Moon mission because his wife had just learned she was pregnant again. This was unscheduled, and Jeff was a man who liked to stick to the plan. Although he didn't let on, he wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of another child. His career was all consuming. Now Jeff felt guilty for all the time he had spent away from home. He felt guilty for all the anguish he had caused Lucie, and he wished with all his heart that he could turn the clock back and make it up to her.

Finally, out of his grief came a new strength, his repressed anger became the drive behind his new company Tracy Engineering. Jeff threw himself in to his work and found it anesthetised his pain. He re-mortgaged his house, sold his treasured Thunderbird car and sunk all of his savings in to this new venture. Once more he was at the helm, but it would be at a price. His once dark hair was turning prematurely grey. The gnawing pain in his stomach could be the beginnings of an ulcer. The palpitations in his chest could be the early warning signs of heart trouble.

Jeff sat in his car watching the traffic tear past, so many people in such a hurry. He sadly realised that he had become just like them. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat on a beach all day or taken his children on a picnic. Jeff set himself punishing schedules and strict deadlines. He was desperate for his company to succeed. He was frequently tired and tetchy, no wonder his children were tense. If he carried on burning the candle at both ends he probably would not live to see them grow up.

Jeff took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, he tried to remember what his stress counsellor had told him 'Try to visualise a tropical island with a golden beach and gently lapping sea. You are surrounded by blue… the sky, the sea. You can feel the sun on your face and you are floating … floating on the sea…'

Someone was prodding him in the ribs. "Hey Dad don't go to sleep, you've got to drive the car. We've got to get to Grandma's." his eldest son had pulled him back to reality, but it had worked. He did feel calmer.

Jeff took out his mobile phone and called his mother to tell her he would be arriving later than expected. He decided not to risk the motorway again. His next call was to his Personal Assistant, to ask her to reschedule his meeting and inform his staff that he would be taking a few more days leave.

"Let me see the map Scott, we're going to take a different route, it might take longer but it's more interesting."

The new route took them through small towns and open countryside, the roads were quiet, and Jeff could stop where and whenever he liked. He parked up next to a field to allow the children to stretch their legs and pat a couple of horses peering over a fence.

Away from the smell of exhaust fumes, and with something to interest him, John forgot he was feeling sick and joined in a game of I spy. Alan wanted to sing 'The wheels on the bus' over and over again. Scott annoyingly started to sing 'One hundred and forty-one green bottles' but thankfully not all the way through.

Soon they were in a familiar landscape – the Kansas wheat fields, where Jeff had worked with his father on the huge combine harvesters, before he decided to become an astronaut. The children all broke in to a chorus of 'Follow the Yellow brick Road'. Jeff joined in and found that he was actually starting to enjoy himself.

They arrived, three hours later than intended. Jeff's mother and father ran out to greet them.

"Did you have a good trip?" his mother asked.

"Eventful," replied Jeff, "By the way, I've decided to stay on for a few days, will that be alright."

"You know it will. I'm always pleased to see you."

"In that case, I hope you don't mind … but I've brought our washing. I didn't have time to do it before we left."


End file.
